


Let It Snow

by meemalee



Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Best Friends, Canon Continuation, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, London, Miscommunication, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-07 20:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meemalee/pseuds/meemalee
Summary: Set in London, six months after the series finale. Detty.





	1. Just Good Friends

_'Oh, the weather outside is frightful_  
_But the fire is so delightful_  
_And since we've no place to go  
_ _Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow'_

"Did you hear the radio this morning? They said conditions were 'Arctic'. I'm thinking they have zero idea what the Arctic is actually like".

Such were Daniel's musings as he lay on the couch in Betty's cramped office, coffee cup balanced precariously on his stomach. Dressed like a college boy in his sweater and black Vans, he looked younger than his 37 years; his hair was getting long and slightly shaggy, and he'd definitely begun to re-grow his Beard of Sorrow™, though as far as Betty knew, nothing concrete was bothering him.

Betty closed her laptop and looked at Daniel with her usual mixture of annoyance, fondness, amusement, and … something else which she couldn't quite pin down, but which had been cropping up more and more often these days.

"And, oh my God, the Tube was totally screwed – it took me half an hour longer to get over here", he continued. "They should see what a real winter is like. Ten flakes of snow and it's like 'Call out the National Guard!".

At this, Daniel suddenly sat up, almost spilling the coffee, to say, "Hey, do they even have a National Guard here?"

"Daniel", Betty began, "as much as I'm enjoying your commentary on the inclement weather in London, isn't there somewhere you have to be? Like a class? I really need to finish this piece by lunchtime before everyone gets Royal Baby-ed out".

"No classes today – the tutor couldn't get in because of 'snow on the line' - you have me _all_ to yourself today", and his blue eyes twinkled at her as he took another sip from his coffee.

Daniel had been enjoying his marketing diploma so far, and had been doing surprisingly well, but an excuse to play hooky and hang out with his favourite person was a-okay by him.

"Fine, well, can you be quiet for a little longer? I'm almost done", and Betty rebooted her laptop to resume pecking at the keys.

"So what angle are you taking?" he suddenly asked, despite himself. "You're Betty Suarez, not Suzuki St Pierre. So I'm assuming there'll be no seedy speculation about how Prince Harry might be helping?"

"What? No! Of course not", Betty said testily, "And what do you mean by that anyway?"

"You know … the old cure for morning sickness? Ginger? As in, 'ginger' Harry?"

"Ew, no – that's gross, Daniel. Are you five years old? Never mind – don't answer that. If you must know, it's a piece about hyperemesis gravidarum. As in, the serious condition which Kate is suffering from, and which has seen her be hospitalised. The mass media has done her a horrible disservice by lazy reporting, and I want IGNITE to set that right. It's not just 'morning sickness' – it even killed Charlotte Bronte!"

"How do you know that?" asked Daniel, "Surely everyone died of consumption in those days?"

"It's just something I know". The words slipped out, and suddenly Betty felt odd and cold, though Daniel just laughed and settled back down on the couch.

Truth be told, Betty hadn't thought once about Henry since that Thai meal before Hilda's wedding when they'd agreed to part as friends, aside from noticing that his Facebook said he was back 'in a relationship'.

What had really made her shiver was the thought that she hadn't been with anyone, or even considered it, for longer than she cared to remember.

"You know what else is retarded about this country, Betty? Apart from the fact that we can't use the word 'retarded', or 'spazz', without getting in trouble?"

Betty sighed, though his interruption was a welcome distraction from her contemplating her lack of love life.

"No, Daniel – what else is retarded about this country?"

"They don't have half and half. Hell, they don't even have heavy cream. The closest you can get is by mixing whole milk and something called whipping cream. The fat percentages are all over the place", and he screwed up his face and squinted at his now-empty polystyrene cup.

Betty couldn't help but smile. "Since when have you been so knowledgeable about our international dairy disparity?" she said.

"Since I got Food Network. Hey, I needed to find something to do in between classes. It's great – I've even learnt a few tricks and you know I make a mean spaghetti and meatballs now. Man (or woman in your case) cannot live on takeout alone, Betty."

Another sigh, and Betty clicked her laptop shut once more.

"I miss my Papi's cooking like you wouldn't believe… Oh God, this isn't happening and you're making me hungry. C'mon - let's grab an early lunch".

Daniel punched the air softly, glad to have worn Betty down as she got up and pulled on her magenta coat – the same coat she'd been wearing when he'd ambushed her in Trafalgar Square six months ago to say sorry and to start over.

As she fastened the buttons, she caught him staring at her with a look on his face that she couldn't quite identify, but she'd been seeing a lot lately.

Just as quickly, the look was gone, and Daniel said cheerfully, "You craving Mexican then? We could go to Lupita?"

"No, it's not the same, and their salsa gives me gas – what I really want is one of Papi's breakfast burritos, and no one here does anything like it".

Daniel made a face, remembering Ignacio's fruitless attempt to feed him the first time he visited Betty's house. And then he remembered that that wasn't the first time he'd visited – the first time was when he apologised for humiliating Betty at that doomed Philippe Michel photo-shoot. He smiled ruefully, thinking he'd had to say sorry to Betty a lot in all the years they'd known each other. Lucky for him she was a forgiving person.

As they walked out the building side by side, Daniel reflected on just how lucky he was that Betty had been willing to let him back into her life, even if it wasn't in quite the way he wanted. But really, whose fault was that? He'd asked her out (kind of), she'd given him an awkward not-quite Betty hug, and then somehow they'd stayed firmly in the Best Friend Zone™, and he'd been too chicken to try anything since.

To his eternal satisfaction, Betty had at least been too busy with launching and then running IGNITE to date anyone else, so he'd been her default plus-one at the many networking dos she'd had to attend. In fact, that very evening they were going to some charity event which IGNITE was co-sponsoring – Daniel had even got himself fitted for a stylish, new, thin-lapelled Prada suit in this season's midnight grey to make sure he dazzled as her arm-candy.

"Hey, you've got your fishy face on!" teased Betty. "I know, let's go to Hazuki and you can get your sashimi platter and pretend like you're a model".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written back in 2012, this was my first and so far only attempt at fanfiction - I usually write about food. It's unbeta'd and more or less unchanged from the original version on FF dot net, apart from some notable exceptions. Always been an Ugly Betty fan, but that year I was very ill in hospital and, when convalescing, I watched every episode back-to-back. This was the result.
> 
> Please forgive any errors - I'm from London, but tried to write this in American English - and please pretend that the series ended in 2012 for Royal Baby timeline purposes. Oh, and this is for entertainment purposes only - sadly I own nothing and no one ... (I'd quite like Daniel though).


	2. Turning Japanese

There was no getting away from the fact that London was fairly grey on any given day, but now as winter approached, it was positively dingy. But there was still something about it that Betty found impossibly romantic. Maybe it was the thought that so many poets and authors she admired had walked these very streets, maybe the fact that all the architecture was so alien yet so beautiful and so very, very old.

They passed the Oscar Wilde monument which Betty never failed to brush with her fingers, even when there was (as now) a small and rowdy child furiously trying to ride the thing. "We are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars" was inscribed at its foot, and for Betty, that was as good a motto as any.

The waitress led them upstairs and Daniel asked for a carafe of plum wine ("Hey, it's not me who has to go back to work"), Betty, a peculiar yoghurt drink called Calpico that she'd become quite fond of. After a cursory flick through the rest of the menu, Daniel ordered his usual 'model' plate, but Betty spent a while longer before plumping for the tonkatsu – a schnitzel-like dish, and the closest thing to rib-sticking that the restaurant had to offer.

"Talking of lost in translation, I'll never forget the day Sally asked me if I thought I was in Mary Poppins" (Sally was the receptionist at Dunne Publications).

"I mean, I totally thought you were meant to say 'love' at the end of every sentence, till she pointed out that 'only cabbies and florists speak like that'. Oh, and of course Christina, but then she's Scottish. God, I miss her".

"When was the last time you saw Christina?" Daniel asked as he poked at a raw shrimp and then dipped it in soy.

"Not since the summer when she came down with William and Stuart. And of course now she's expecting again, so God only knows when I'll next see her. And _no_ , I won't be throwing her a baby shower".

"Wouldn't dream of suggesting it – she'd probably want some special haggis dumplings flown in", joked Daniel, "and for a guy who once had a terminal illness, Stuart's awfully fertile".

At that, Betty reached forward to give him a playful shove, only to knock over her drink. Her face reminded Daniel of that first day when she walked into the glass meeting-room wall, and he was struck by the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her tight.

"How is it that I'm still such a klutz?" Betty fretted as she used her napkin to mop at the table and her skirt. But her attention was soon diverted to the other side of the room where an old Japanese man had begun to make weird, strangled noises.

"Daniel – I think, I think that poor man is choking. Somebody do something! Call 911, I mean 999!"

Daniel stood up and rushed over to the man and got behind him as if to hug him. Moments later, an unidentifiable object flew in an arc across the room, and the Japanese man immediately began to look better. After participating in a lot of deep bowing with both the man and a waitress who'd been flapping hysterically at the side (" _hontou ni tasukarimashita_ ", the old man kept saying), Daniel returned to his seat, looking pale but considerably relieved.

"How did you do that? How, how - how did you know what to do?" stammered Betty in shock.

Daniel shrugged and pursed his lips. His blue eyes shimmered in the same way they did when he signed Betty's release form all those months ago.

"When … Molly was ill, I felt so out of control, so … so helpless. There was nothing I could say, and nothing I could do to stop what was happening to her. So … I … I took a class. Learnt all the basics – CPR, Heimlich manoeuvre. It was worth it if it meant that, that I could maybe … save someone. Even if I couldn't save her".

Betty reached for his hand and held it tight. Just when she thought she knew everything about him, Daniel still managed to surprise her. He looked startled, but squeezed her hand back and stared quietly at her with those pools of blue.

Betty had never seen anyone be so … so heroic. Not even when Henry jousted with Nick Pepper for her honour. Daniel had been so calm, and so collected – he'd known exactly what to do, and had done it without any fuss.

All of a sudden, Betty wished she had someone like that to look after her, to take care of her and to be her permanent knight in shining armour.

And Daniel - he'd looked so strong, and so handsome, and so, _so_ sexy as he took control and … no, no, no, no, NO, what the hell was she thinking? Betty's face flooded with warmth as she realised where her thoughts were leading her, and she felt disgusted with herself. After all, Daniel had just been talking about his wife – his dead wife – he was a _widower_ – she'd even arranged their wedding!

And _sure_ , he was cute and had a nice jawline, but he was her best friend – her BEST FRIEND. No, it must be hormones – she hadn't gotten any in such a long time that she was just seeing Daniel in the same way a starving man might view a pork chop.

As she flailed into self-recrimination, she suddenly noticed that Daniel had started to stroke the back of her hand very gently. His touch was enough to send her over the edge, and she flinched as if she'd been burned.

Pushing her chair back so abruptly that she knocked over Daniel's carafe of wine, Betty ran down the stairs and straight out the restaurant, leaving Daniel confused and dripping.


	3. Sister Act

After he'd paid the bill (he'd insisted, though the restaurant had tried their best to refuse in light of his gallantry), Daniel picked up the coat and purse that Betty had left behind in her hurry and went after her.

As he walked into the Dunne lobby and towards Betty's office, he saw Lindsay himself coming in the opposite direction.

"Hi Lindsay, is Betty here?" asked Daniel wearily.

"Oh yes, she seemed in a dreadful rush as she whizzed right past me, but then I suppose that's why I hired the girl – always bursting with fire and energy, that one. Go on, go straight through – but then, I don’t suppose you need my permission, do you?"

"Thanks Lindsay", he sighed.

A clack-clacking noise started up as soon as he grabbed Betty's door handle, which implied that she was hard at work on her article, but unfortunately for her, Daniel knew better.

As he entered her office, he saw she was hunched down at her desk, staring straight at her screen.

"Um, Betty", he began. "I think you might need this", and he reached into her purse and waved the key-fob at her which actually let her access her laptop.

She looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights and then snatched the fob from him and commenced typing for real.

"Betty. What the hell just happened there?" Daniel began again. "I mean, I save a guy's life, and then I open up my soul to you, and you have some kind of conniption, and you run out on me. Oh, and my pants are covered in wine".

" _Nothing_ happened, Daniel – I just realised how late it was and how important it was for me to finish this damn article", and she continued to tap away.

"So important that you left your purse and your coat in the restaurant?"

 _Tap-tap-tap._ "You know what I'm like when I get an idea in my head. And I’m sorry about your pants – I'll pay for the dry-cleaning".

"It's okay, you don't have to. I needed to drop some stuff round today anyway. So, um, are we good?"

"Yes, of course we’re good, why wouldn't we be?" _Tap-tap-tap._ "Daniel, thank you for bringing me my things and I hate to be rude, but can you just leave? I really need to get this done".

"Ohhh-kay. So - I'll pick you up at 7 then?"

At this, Betty looked up at him, and he swore her eye twitched before she looked back down and continued to peck at the keys.

"You know, Daniel, I still haven't finished this article, and there are two more pieces that I need to file before the end of the day, plus I haven't updated the website in a week, and God knows the last time I updated my own blog. I think we should just pass on tonight – it's not that big of a deal anyway". 

"It _is_ a big deal, young lady" interrupted Lindsay from the doorway. "You know very well that I'm otherwise engaged in wining and dining some advertisers tonight, so you need to be there to represent not just IGNITE, but Dunne Publications as a whole. Daniel, pick her up at 7, and Betty, make sure you have your best frock on – please don't either of you let me down", and he turned sharply on his heel and walked off.

Daniel smirked, "I guess you better do what the boss says. I'll see you at 7".

Defeated, Betty nodded quickly and he grinned, hung up her coat, and left her to it.

As she watched him walk out the door, Betty found herself gazing at his backside a little too closely, before she gave herself a mental slap and then buried her face in her desk.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God what the hell is wrong with me?" she muttered to herself, when Sally popped her head in and chirped, "Amanda Tanen-Sommers-Cannon on line 1 for you, Betty".

Betty grabbed her phone – maybe Amanda could talk some sense into her. Well, obviously not, but at least she'd provide some sort of diversion.

"Heeeeey B. How's my little Puerto Rican bonita chiquita doing across that big old dirty pond?"

"Amanda, hi. You know I'm Mexican, and London is just dandy. What do you want anyway? Isn't it, like, 8am over there?"

"There's no need to shout, you grumpy little bunny. I can hear you _just_ fine. And it may be a little early, but I couldn't _wait_ to share my good news with my furry BFF. Can you switch on your Skype – we need webcam for the full effect?"

Betty booted up the program. "O-kayy, Amanda. I'm switching over now. This had better be worth it".

As soon as the video started, Amanda thrust her left hand into shot. "Four carat diamond, princess-cut! All the other skinny bitches can eat it! Bettylicious boo - say _HELLOOO_ to the future Mrs Meade!"

Betty's heart jumped into her mouth. She thought it was _over_ between them - Daniel had never said anything – when would he have had the chance to? – this didn't make any sense at _all_.

"B, are you still there? You've gone wicked pale – I mean, as pale as a short, brown person can get. Betty?"

The camera wobbled as Amanda went out of shot.

"Tyler? TYLER! Put down that damned doughnut and get your sexy ass over here – I think I may have killed Betty".

Suddenly both Tyler and Amanda appeared onscreen, Tyler with crumbs around his mouth.

"Hey Betty. You okay? Think my fiancée might have given you a bit of shock. I know Amanda and I haven't been together all that long, but you're cool with us getting married, right?" and he wiped his face lazily with the back of his hand.

Betty’s heart started beating again and she felt herself flush crimson.

"Hiiiii Tyler. Of course I'm cool – I'm more than cool – I'm so cool I'm ice cold about you guys getting married", and she tried to high-five the camera like a dork.

"Oh yay, B! Because I _totally_ want you to be my matron-of honour!" squealed Amanda, "Because everyone knows you can't have the bridesmaids outshining the bride! Oh, I'm going to look so, _so_ pretty with you standing by my side!" and she beamed and clasped her hands together with joy.

"Thanks, Amanda", Betty grimaced, "Look, I'll talk to you later, okay, bye now" and she ended the call, so she could bury her face in her desk once more.

* * *

 Ten minutes passed, and her desk was beginning to feel awfully hard and cold. Betty lifted her head, pink Post-It note stuck to her cheek, and began to dial.

"Hellooo, Hilda's Beautilities".

"Oh Hilda, thank God you're awake. I really need to talk to you",

"Oh hi Betty! Listen, you know how Papi's been seeing more and more of Elena? Well, I really think he's about to - ".

"Sorry Hilda, but this really can't wait. Okay, don't flip out, but I think I might like Daniel". 

"Whaaaat? Like _LIKE_ like? You’re saying you think you might like your sexy, handsome, single and stinking rich best friend who also happens to be a fabulous kisser? Someone call Geraldo – this is earth-shattering stuff!"

"HILDA. This is not funny. Daniel is… Daniel. And I'm me. And never the twain shall meet or whatever that saying is."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean? You think he might not like you? You've really got your head stuck up your butt if you think that that's true."

"No. Yes. No. I mean, even if he did like me, and I'm not saying he does, he's my best friend. We have no secrets – I know how many women he's slept with - I've seen the mole on the back of his ass".

"And what woman hasn't?"

"Not helping, Hilda".

"Sorry, mami, go on".

"Like I said, it would just be too weird. How can you go from being friends to … more than friends? It's practically _incest_ ".

"Sweetie, listen to me. Do you remember the day that I married Bobby? And the speech that I made? I said it then, and I'll say it again – I married my best friend, and it was the best thing I ever did".

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Santos and I – we had crazy chemistry and so, so much passion ( _God_ , so much passion), but in the end, the reason it didn’t work is because we just weren't friends. You and Daniel – you're the best friends I know. I can't think of a better foundation for a relationship".

"But Hilda, if he likes me so much, why hasn't he said anything? Or tried to make some kind of move?"

"Get a clue, Betty - the guy crossed an ocean for you! How much more of a fairytale do you need?"

"He didn't come to London for me. He came here because he wanted to start over".

"You and I both know that's not true. Mami, he could have gone anywhere – he chose to follow you. And have you forgotten his freaking final Letter from the Editor? He might as well have hired a sky-writer like you did – only this time saying 'Daniel loves Betty'. Sweetie, look, I need to go – my first customer has just come in – but you call me later tonight, okay? And don't go doing anything stupid".

* * *

  It was true that Betty had somehow managed to forget about [the last letter](https://daniel-betty.livejournal.com/713324.html) Daniel had written as Editor-in-Chief of MODE.

The first time she'd read it, she'd run the whole scale of emotions – from anger, to outrage, to shock, to disbelief, to embarrassment. He hadn't bothered to come to her party to say goodbye, yet here he was making all sorts of weird insinuations in public, like a lovesick schoolboy, and she couldn't think of anything more unwelcome.

It hadn't helped that the next day Claire Meade had sent her an email, no text, just the subject line "Theory confirmed" and a link to said Letter from the Editor.

And then she found out that he'd officially stepped down from MODE, and she was mortified that people might put two and two together and think that _she_ was the reason, and she even began to dread the thought of him turning up on her doorstep.

Then a month later, he kind of did, and well, no wonder she felt awkward. Thankfully though, it seemed Daniel really was here just to make amends, and everything had gone back to the way it used to be, and Betty began to suspect that the letter (which he’d never mentioned to her) was the simple result of self-pity, a bottle of Scotch, and Wilhelmina turning a blind eye. Of course, now, six months on, she was beginning to wish that he _had_ meant it and she had no idea what to do.


	4. Everybody Walk the Dinosaur

6.30pm, and Betty was sitting on her bed in a haze of mild panic. She wore a flattering purple dress that Christina had sent her especially for tonight, but was beginning to wonder if its low neckline was a little _too_ flattering.

"Breathe, Betty", she said to herself, as she tried to straighten her unruly hair. "You can do this. He's just Daniel, your old boss, and your best friend. You managed to work right by his side for four whole years without being remotely attracted to him, so why on earth would you want to be his morning bagel now?"

 _Ding-dong!_ He was early. She dropped the tongs on the dressing table and yelled, "In a minute! I'm not decent!"

Running to her closet, she grabbed an old velvet shawl, wrapped it tightly around her chest and opened the door.

Her mouth dropped open a little when she saw him. Daniel had shaved and had a haircut, and, combined with his new Prada suit, he looked incredible. He clutched a small posy of pink Gerbera daisies, and seemed hesitant.

"Can I … can I come in? I'm sorry I'm early – I thought the Tube would be screwed again", and he held out the bouquet to her.

Betty was touched that he'd remembered her favourites and, for a moment, she forgot how flustered she was.

"You've never bought me flowers before. Well, aside from that orchid you tried to take back off of me".

"First time for everything", Daniel said, and he had that look in his eyes again, plunging Betty back into skittishness. "You look great, by the way".

Great. That word again. "Smooth, Daniel", he thought to himself, "Way to give a compliment. How about amazing, stunning, gorgeous, breath-taking, even beautiful? You go for 'great' for the umpteenth time. Tool".

An awkward silence arose, as Betty found a vase for the flowers.

"Okay, let's do this bitch", she muttered with false bravado, and she made for the door.

"Uh, Betty", said Daniel, gesturing to the dressing table. "I think you need to switch your hair tongs off?"

"Oh. Ha. Yeah. Wouldn't want a repeat of last year, would we?"

Turning off the tongs, Betty laughed nervously, and she ushered Daniel out the door.

* * *

 Rain battered against the cab windows, and Betty was hyper-conscious of two things – (1) her hair was going to frizz up like nobody's business, and (2) Daniel's right thigh seemed awfully close to hers. It was like she could feel the heat radiating off him, and this was making her both uncomfortable and giddy.

"Snap out of it, Suarez", she said to herself, "It's just Daniel. You've rolled lint off that leg."

Daniel's thoughts were similar, though he'd long stopped seeing Betty as 'just Betty'. The only thing stopping him from sweeping her into a kiss was that Betty was too good for a fumble in the back of a cab. That, and the fact that he was a grade-A coward, terrified that any romantic overtures from him would nix the relationship that they already had.

So the awkward silence continued till they pulled up in front of the venue – the Natural History Museum in South Kensington.

"That'll be £17, love", said the cab driver, and Betty went to pull out her purse, but Daniel grasped her arm to stop her. _Oh!_ The spark Betty felt as they touched was almost palpable.

She giggled at the sensation, before she was hit again by the realisation that it was _Daniel_ that made her feel like that, and then she squawked hysterically.

Daniel gave her a puzzled smile and handed a twenty to the cab driver ("Keep the change") before getting out and opening Betty's door.

"Seriously, Betty, what is _with_ you today?" he asked as she stepped out of the cab.

"I, er, didn't manage to grab lunch - I'm feeling a little light-headed".

"You did though. You had that schnitzel thing. Before my act of heroics?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Daniel, do you really have to question everything I do?" she huffed, and she strode into the venue without him.

* * *

Even on an ordinary day, the Museum was something to behold, with its beautiful fossilized columns and marbled floors, not to mention the imposing diplodocus skeleton which just happened to greet you as soon as you entered. But the party planners had outdone themselves for tonight's event, and said dinosaur was now the centrepiece of a veritable winter wonderland.

Betty stopped to marvel at the silken drapes etched with myriad snowflakes and the delicate ice sculptures which served only to enhance the existing exhibits, and she sighed a small sigh of contentment.

"Betty!" yelled a voice at the other end of the room, jolting her from her reverie, "Betty! I'm been waiting for you to arrive!"

Pushing through the crowd of party-goers was someone Betty hadn't seen for almost a year: Matt Hartley holding two glasses of wine and wearing the biggest, most hopeful grin she had ever seen on his face.

" _Matt?_ " she said, dumbfounded, as he handed one of the glasses to her and bussed her on the cheek.

"Hartley!" squeaked Daniel, who had caught up with Betty and was debating whether to drag her away, "What brings you to London? Don't you have people to help in Malawi?"

"It's Botswana, actually", said Matt, "And the project out there is doing just fine without me, which is a good thing considering that I've decided to relocate here".

"Relocate?" said Betty blankly, "You _live_ here?"

"Well, I went back to New York first to meet Tyler – which reminds me, we share a _brother_ now, Daniel – and to figure some stuff out with my parents. And then I found out where you had gone so I – well, I came after you. You _know_ , Betty", and he laughed ruefully and rubbed his chin, "I kinda hoped you'd still be waiting for me".

Betty's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish.

"It's okay, Betty, we can make up for lost time now – we have a lot to talk about", and he took her by the shoulder and tried to steer her away from the hubbub, and more importantly, Daniel.

Talking of which - "What do you think you're doing, Hartley?" shouted Daniel after them, "Betty doesn't want to see you any more".

"Forgive me, Daniel," scoffed Matt as he kept steering a stunned Betty in the opposite direction, "but I think what Betty wants is rather up to Betty to decide".

"Really? You waltz back into Betty's life after leaving her broken-hearted, and you think you can just pick things up right where you left off?"

Matt stopped and turned, "Look, I appreciate your concern for Betty, I do, but this really isn't any of your business, Daniel, although God knows you've always _tried_ to make Betty's personal life your business."

"I'm just trying to protect her from making another mistake, Hartley. You had your chance and you blew it, and Betty moved on long ago, so why don't you get the hell out of both our lives?"

"Moved on?" Matt paused and looked at both of them. " _God_ , how could I have been so blind? You're not here for a new start at all, are you, Daniel? You came here for the exact same reason as me. You came to London for Betty. Are you – are you _together_ now? Is that it? Were you just _waiting_ for me to leave?"

"Matt, you don't know what you're talking about", Betty murmured, as the crowd began to gather round them, enthralled by the spectacle.

"In fact, did you even wait for me to leave? I was right all along, wasn't I? I can't believe you acted so innocent when you were already sleeping together!" cried Matt, " _Man_ , I totally ought to have punched you first".

At this, Daniel saw red. "You son of a bitch, Hartley", he yelled as he charged straight towards Matt.

Letting go of Betty's shoulder and dropping his wineglass, Matt tried his best to dodge the attack, but Daniel's angry momentum was far too great, and the two of them toppled backwards - right into the tail of the diplodocus skeleton which broke off with a hideous crunch.

A couple of minutes later, security guards came running. "Right, you two gentlemen are coming with us", one of them barked, and, ignoring Matt and Daniel's feeble protests, they picked them up and dragged them away.

As the scandalized crowd dispersed around her, Betty threw her head into her hands. "Hell of a party, Suarez", she said to herself, "Lindsay will be _so_ pleased".


	5. Agony Uncle

Having somehow made it back to her apartment without further mishap, Betty grabbed her phone and began to dial.

"Pick up pick up pick up pick up – oh hi – Hilda? I need your advice!"

"Wrong sex, my little chimichanga – it's your possibly elder but definitely better Marc St James, Esquire".

"Marc? What the – why are you picking up Hilda's phone?"

"For your information, _Betty_ , I was invited over to help Justin run through some lines for an audition. You know – Justin? Your super-talented yet incredibly sensitive nephew who you _cruelly_ chose to abandon for the bright lights of ye olde London town?"

"Shut up, Marc, and get Hilda on the phone".

"Oh _okay_ , I get it – is it _your time of the month_?" Marc dropped to a stage whisper. "I mean, I suppose you are *technically* a woman, despite the unnecessary excess of body hair".

"Marc, so help me God, if you don't get my sister right now, I'll tell everyone about your secret shrine to Michael Bublé".

" _Shhhhhhh_ ", hissed Marc down the phone. "God, what an _ugly_ threat, Betty - England has made you so _mean_. Anyway, it's just little old me here right now – Hilda's out with Bobby, and Justin's gone to hand in an assignment. _Soooo_ ," his tone turned conciliatory, "tell Uncle Marc what's wrong."

Betty sighed. "Fine. But don't make fun of me or tell anyone else, Marc – my threat still stands."

"My perfectly pert lips are sealed".

"So", Betty cleared her throat. "I think I may have feelings for Daniel".

"Noooooo", gasped Marc in mock astonishment. "FINALLY, Betty. I know you're _far_ from being a genius, but we were wondering when that particular penny would drop. There's a reason I was constantly calling you two LOVAHS."

"Look, whatever you might think, Marc, this is a new development", snapped Betty, choosing not to dwell on his use of the phrase ‘ _we_ were wondering’.

"For _you_ , maybe, but junior Meade has been wanting to get on that dumpy ride for  _quite_ some time now – _helloooo_ Letter from the Editor".

" _Fine_ , so maybe he _was_ interested in me six months ago, but he certainly isn't now, and that's not even my only problem".

"We'll get back to Daniel, but this is getting more and more interesting – go on, go on".

"So, Matt Hartley's back. As in, here in London, rather than saving people in Africa". 

"Hartley? Is back? There in London? Rather than in Africa?"

"Are you going to listen to me, Marc, or are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

"Oh _no_ , I'm listening. I just can't get over the hilarious soap opera that constantly revolves around you. You know, Betty, life is so _BORING_ without the badly-dressed chaos you provide".

"MARC".

"Okay, okay. So Daniel-lite aka Meade 2.0 is in town, and I'm assuming that that cheeky young fella is there so he can re-swoop you off your feet?"

"Well, Daniel sort of swept _him_ off his feet tonight".

" _What_?" Marc said with delight. "Is that why you're so certain Daniel doesn't like you – is he finally playing for the winning team?"

"No, no, they argued, and then Daniel kinda went for him, and then they crashed into the dinosaur's tail".

"Well, _that's_ a euphemism I'm not familiar with".

"Look, the details don't matter. What _does_ matter is that Matt's come back for me just when I think I might like Daniel - and Daniel … well, Daniel is being Daniel".

"You mean, over-protective and emotionally constipated?"

"Yes. So what do I do?"

"What do you do? I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that, Betty Suarez. What you _do_ , little Missy, is you get on out there and you tell Hartley to vamoose, scram, skedaddle, hit the road, and then you go grab hold of Daniel's hand and you hug and you smooch and you go to Pottery Barn and do whatever it is that you heteros like to do".

"It's not as simple as that, Marc".

" _Sure_ it is. Anyway, Justin's back now, so I need to go – okay, thanks, bye bye Betty, take care, bye bye now".

_Click._

"Wait, Marc – let me talk to Justin – oh for the love of…"

Betty put down the phone and groaned.

It was her own fault for being dumb enough to imagine that Marc would be of any use at all. She took off her shoes and her earrings, threw her shawl on the dressing table (good thing she  _had_ switched off her tongs), and flung herself face down on the bed.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after a dream in which Matt and Daniel pulled and pulled at each of her arms till they stretched like the rope in a tug-of-war, Betty woke to a frantic knocking on her door.

"Betty? Betty, let me in. I need to talk to you", said a muffled voice.

"Betty's not in", she yelled back.

"Betty! Come _on_ , we really need to talk".

She got up from the bed, and peered out the spy-hole.

It was Matt, sporting a black eye and a huge bunch of roses.

Betty sighed, undid the chain and opened the door.

At that exact moment, Daniel was coming up the stairs, taking them two at a time (the elevator was out of order). But as he got to the top, he saw Matt go in, so, quietly, he turned and he went back the way he came.


	6. Sons and Daughters

"So".

"So".

"Betty, you look really different".

"Well, considering that the last time you saw me before tonight, I was hobbling on crutches with a head like a mushroom, I'm not all that surprised".

"No, I mean you look _really_ different … you've lost your braces, and your glasses are new … You look – you look amazing".

"Thanks".

Silence.

"Matt, what do you want? Why are you here? How did you find out where I live?"

"Well, I can answer question 3 really easily – I got your address from Amanda. Questions 1 and 2, also easy – I want … I want _you_ , Betty. That's why I'm here".

"Matt, we were over a long time ago. When you got on that plane to Africa."

"But Betty, I still love you. I never _stopped_ loving you. Every night as I lay under my mosquito net, all I could think of was you. Oh, and I don't mean because of, you know, that photo-shoot you did for the UN".

"Did it never occur to you that I might have stopped loving _you_?"

Matt looked despondent. "I guess not".

Betty softened. "Matt, I'm sorry, but Daniel was right. I _have_ moved on".

She took the bouquet from Matt's hand. "But thank you – these are lovely". 

Betty went to find another vase for the flowers and then carefully placed it next to the gerbera daisies. In comparison to Daniel's posy, Matt's roses looked monstrous and gaudy.

"Was _I_ right too?" said Matt petulantly, " _Are_ you two sleeping together now?"

Betty's face darkened. "Who I choose to sleep with is no longer any of your business, Matt. But no, we're not sleeping together".

"But you _want_ to", Matt persisted, only to be met by a slap from Betty, who then clasped her hands to her mouth, horrified at what she'd done.

"I ... I didn't mean to do that, Matt. I'm sorry - I'm just so confused right now".

"It's okay. I probably deserved that". He touched his cheek. "You … you love him, don't you?"

Betty looked down at her hands and then began to fiddle with the sash at her waist.

" _Honestly_ , I don't know. I do know that I've been feeling differently around him."

"I always knew this would happen, you know. There was always this vibe between the two of you".

"Vibe, what _vibe_? Matt, now you're not making any sense at all".

"Come on, Betty. Be honest – you've always been Daniel's girl in one way or another."

Betty bit her lip – she couldn't really argue with that.

"You know, Betty, there was even a pool on at MODE about when you two would finally get it together. I picked within a year of my leaving for Africa", Matt laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Maybe I should go claim my winnings".

"I didn't know that", Betty stuttered.

"We kept it pretty quiet." He sighed. "Anyway, I think I ought to go before I manage to make an even bigger fool of myself".

Matt got up. "By the way, did you _know_ how much it costs to repair a dinosaur's tail? Thank God Daniel has to pay for half of it. It was good seeing you, Betty. Keep the flowers".

And before she could protest, Matt stole a kiss and walked out the door.

* * *

 Moments later, the phone rang.

"Mija, I have something to tell you. Now, don't go getting mad at me, but I'm moving to California to be with Elena".

"Papi! Boy, am I glad to hear your voice. I've had a _really_ weird day. And why would I be mad? I love Elena".

"Good, that's good to hear. Don't get me wrong, Betty, we still want to get married, but she can't get time off work any time soon and I'm gonna have to find a job and, well, you know how it is. You're still coming home for Christmas though, right? I'll still be here – I'm not planning to move till the New Year and I want all my family around me."

"Yes, Papi, I got my ticket already-" _Beep_. "Papi, hold on a second, there's someone on the other line".

"Betty, dear". It was Claire Meade. "Please enlighten me as to what fresh idiocy my son has committed this time."

"Mrs Meade… Claire. Hi! What makes you say that?"

" _Please_ , Betty. As you are well aware, I would kill or at least maim for that boy, but frankly he's been nothing but a liability since I ripped him screaming from my womb. I just _tried_ to speak to him, but I couldn't quite tell if he'd been weeping or become closely acquainted with a bottle of Jack Daniels. He _did_ , however, mumble your name a number of times, so can I at least apologise on his behalf for whatever it is that he did or didn't do to you?"

"Seriously, Claire. Daniel hasn't done anything wrong. Well, apart from help destroy a priceless exhibit. Never mind. It's just been a really long day. It's nice to hear from you".

"It's good to speak to you too, sweetheart. _Listen_ , Betty. Please try to remember that Daniel always _means_ well, even if it does get lost in translation. I'll leave you in peace for now, but one last thing. I love you, dear. Not _all_ of us Meades are afraid to say so".

And with a click, she was gone.

"Papi? Are you still there? Sorry about that – it was Mrs Meade".

"Claire? How's she doing? I think I'm gonna invite her for Christmas – fine lady, but she always looks like she needs a little feeding up".

"She's okay, Papi – she's just worried about her son".

"The one in France who's a woman now?"

"No, the one who's here with me. Daniel".

"Ahh. Daniel. You know I spoke to your sister. She says you might have some news for me? Something about you and Daniel maybe finally seeing eye-to-eye, eh?"

"Hilda has a big mouth".

Ignacio chuckled. "Mija, the first time I met Daniel, I thought he was a real  _pinche pendejo_ , but the way he was with Justin that Christmas, and the way he has always tried to put you first since then … let's just say you have my blessing. Maybe you can _both_ come home for Christmas?"

"Thank you, Papi", said Betty quietly.

"No problem, Mija. Now get some rest. It must be pretty late over there. I'll see you soon. I love you, Betty".

"I love you too, Papi". Betty put down her phone gently.

Two of the people she cared about most in the world had just told her that they loved her (and obviously Matt wasn't one of them). Maybe she would try for a third.


	7. Let It Snow

Before she could talk herself out of doing anything stupid, Betty had called a cab and was slipping on a pair of sneakers. She briefly wished she still had that big, blue puffy overcoat to keep out the chill, but tonight her magenta coat would just have to do.

For the second time that evening, Betty found herself sitting in the back of a cab feeling giddy, but this time she only had her own thoughts to keep her company.

What would she say when she got there? What would she do? And what possible outcome did she want from all of this?

She knew she was being impetuous (as always), but going by her gut instinct had often proved the best course, and right now Betty's gut was telling her to go see Daniel.

"Come on, come on – Sir, is there any chance we could go a little faster?"

"Sorry, love, but it's chock-a-block all the way down to Knightsbridge. Christmas time, innit? People coming and going from parties and office dos and such-like. You're more than welcome to get out and walk if you like – it'd probably be faster at this rate".

"Fine, I think I will – thank you", and Betty shoved a ten pound note in the cabbie's hand, glad that she'd decided to wear her Converse.

She hurtled down the sidewalk, dodging late-night joggers and tipsy office workers alike, and despite her sensible footwear, she nearly slipped on the ice a couple of times.

Cursing Daniel for choosing to live uphill, Betty finally found herself outside his block, and she pressed the buzzer to his apartment as snow started to fall softly.

No answer.

"Daniel? I know you're in there", she said into the entry phone. "Let me in".

Still no answer.

"Danieeel? _Please_ let me in. We really need to talk".

The speaker crackled into life, but all Betty could make out was "that bastard Hartley" and the front door remained firmly shut.

"Daniel Bradford Meade, if you don't let me in right this minute, I will curse you out so loud that you'll never be able to show your face in this neighbourhood again. And I'm from Queens - I know some pretty choice curses".

 _Bzzzzzz_. The front door clicked open.

106A. Daniel's apartment. Betty rapped sharply on its door.

"Let me in, Meade. I'm warning you".

"Don't want to", slurred a voice, rough with booze and ripe with self-pity.

Betty changed tack. " _Please_ , Daniel. I have The Expendables on DVD right here in my hand" (she didn't). "We can order pizza and and we can watch it to-ge-ther".

The door cracked open a peep, and Betty shoved it open.

"Ah, got you now, Meade! Oh. Oh my god, _Daniel_ ".

Daniel was a state. He was dressed in his Robe of Despair™ (the same one he wore when he was Mr Sickington and when Sofia Reyes dumped him), which was covered in stains and snot and Wotsit crumbs (he'd been briefly devastated to discover that Cheetos didn't exist in the UK, but these were an adequate substitute). His eyes were bloodshot and weepy, and he clutched a bottle of Scotch – Claire had been right on both counts.

His apartment was, if anything, in even worse condition. There were empty takeout cartons and dirty laundry everywhere, and a distinctly stale odour filled the air.

"Daniel, when was the last time you cleaned this place?" said Betty, wrinkling up her nose. "I know I haven't been round here for a couple of weeks, but this is disgusting".

"Thanks, Betty. Kick a man when he's down, why don't you? And where's Fartley - surely he wants to come laugh at my misery too?" and he took a swig straight from his bottle.

"Matt? Why would _he_ be here? And what was with that macho display at the Museum earlier – what the hell is wrong with you anyway?"

"What's wrong with _me_? How about _you_ getting back together with that little punk who dumped you to go out and 'find himself' in Africa?"

"Don't be stupid, Daniel. That ship sailed long ago. What makes you think Matt and I are back together and why do you even care?" she snapped, glaring at him.

Daniel glared right back and jabbed a finger in her direction. "I saw him. And you. You and him. Together. At your apartment".

"What? Daniel, were you _following_ him?"

"No", he said sullenly, as he took another swig of Scotch, "I was coming to find you".

Betty hesitated, and then decided to take the (boozy) bull by the horns.

"Daniel, why did you come to London?"

Daniel laughed bitterly. "Like I said, I was coming to find you".

"And? Why _did_ you come to find me?"

Daniel gazed at Betty wistfully. If anything, she looked even more beautiful than usual – face flushed, bosom heaving (why the hell did she always have to cover it up?), chocolate brown eyes crackling with fire.

He contemplated telling her the truth – that he was mad about her, that he could barely function without her (hence the state of the apartment), that he loved her loved her _loved her_.

But, as usual, his courage deserted him as the feeling that he just wasn't good enough for Betty engulfed him, so he took another swig from the bottle and looked away.

Betty stared long and hard at Daniel, and it dawned on her finally that, however pitiful Daniel looked (and he was pretty darn pathetic right now), at that _very_ moment (and perhaps for an indefinite time), there was _nowhere_ else in the world that she wanted to be. She wanted to be right here, with Daniel, and as more than, well, just a (best) friend.

She also realised that, as usual, the next step was up to her.

Reminding herself that she was an attractive, intelligent, confident, _fearless_ businesswoman, Betty took a deep breath and said, "Oh God, I really hope I don't live to regret this, but … Daniel, I think I love you. And I think that you love me too".

Daniel looked up at Betty in stunned surprise, which turned into confusion, which turned into pure, unadulterated joy. Did she really just say what he'd been longing to hear for so many months? Was it possible that Betty loved him too?

"Oh Betty, I _do_ love you. I am _so_ in love with you. I love you _so, so very_ much", he said happily as he dropped the bottle of Scotch and came towards her, but she immediately held up her arms to ward him off, and said, "Seriously, Daniel. If we're going to do this, you need a shower. A long one. I'm not kidding – you _reek_ ".

Daniel laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages, and did exactly as he was told.

* * *

As the hot water washed away the fug, Daniel could hardly believe what had just happened. After six months of him completely failing to make a move, Betty had turned around and chosen _him_. Him, instead of that douchebag Hartley. He tried not to feel smug, as he wrapped a thick towel around himself and sauntered back into the lounge.

Betty was nowhere to be seen.

So Daniel freaked out.

Had he imagined the whole beautiful exchange – had Betty been nothing but an alcohol-fuelled hallucination? He picked up his phone in a panic and started to dial her cell, when in walked Betty holding two cups of coffee.

"Hi. I figured you might need this", she said, as she handed a steaming cup to him.

Daniel looked sheepish. "I - I thought you'd left".

"I _thought_ about it", Betty said as she nursed her own cup. "Drink your coffee".

Daniel drank without tearing his eyes away from her, as if convinced she would disappear any second. Betty looked down, for once slightly embarrassed at Daniel's state of undress, and continued to sip.

After what seemed like an eternity, Daniel said quietly, "So what happens now?"

"I honestly don't know, Daniel. I mean, judging by your last [Letter from the Editor](https://daniel-betty.livejournal.com/713324.html), you've felt like this for a while now. This is all still really new to me", she said, gesturing around her.

Daniel put down his cup, and knelt down before her, staring at her with big, blue shimmering eyes.

"Whoa, you're not - you're not going to do anything crazy like _propose_ to me, are you, Daniel?" Betty said, backing away slightly and only half-kidding.

"No, no, of course not", said Daniel (though a small part of him died inside). "I just … Betty, I know I don't deserve you, but if you just give me a chance, we can make this work. I _love_ you".

"I know that, and like I said - I love you too. But - we've always been a team. We're like Laurel and Hardy. Or Cagney and Lacey. Or Starsky and Hutch. We're Betty and Daniel. How _can_ we be involved that way?" and she waved her hands around again.

Daniel captured one of her hands and pressed his lips to it in a soft kiss.

"We're Betty and Daniel", he said to her, "And _that's_ why we'll work".

Betty flushed red. "Maybe you could ... maybe you could try that again? But a little higher?"

Daniel's eyes gleamed. "Like here?" he said, and he moved in to kiss her neck.

It was suddenly getting extremely warm.

"Maybe ... maybe even a little higher?" Betty said faintly.

"Like here?" Daniel said, and he moved in to kiss her lips.

* * *

A few hours later, after a lot more kissing (although nothing else – she wasn't that kind of girl), 'Betty and Daniel' was beginning to make total sense.

As the snow continued to fall outside, they watched the fire flicker together in companionable silence, as she lay in his arms on the couch.

"Thank you for not giving up on me, Betty", Daniel whispered, as he softly stroked her hair.

But all he received in reply was a gentle snore - Betty had fallen asleep.

He kissed the top of her head and tucked a curl behind her ear, so overwhelmed with happiness that it almost scared him and he thought his heart would burst.

"Isn't it great, Betty?" he murmured softly to her, remembering the day he first realised he loved her. "That feeling - when everything is right in the world?"

(And before he fell asleep himself, he made a mental note to hide that diamond ring).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, my friends, is the end of this little tale. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the ride. 
> 
> If any one is interested though, I may be persuaded to write a sequel ...


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